#both interpretations valid ok

[jay-hershelle]

Buddy Daddies (2023, P.A. Works)

Mild spoilers for the entire season!

[khaotunq]

A Scene for a Scene: Kieta Hatsukoi Episode 1 (2021, Japan) ♥ My Love Mix-Up! Episode 1 (2024, Thailand)

[jb-nonsense]

Me, someone who originally was going to have my galemancer tav and Gale not have kids, because they're both career driven individuals

Someone in the tags: omg the people who interpret Gale has just bring insecure about having kids are WRONG. The only correct interpretation is him not wanting them or having them ever

Me: hm, maybe one accidental despite taking every precaution kid for Gale and Gwen, then

[fightwing]

🔥 Unpopular opinion about your muse? 

i dont think its necessarily popular but just seen often in the tags, but i am the #1 hater of the 'dick was the angry robi.n' thing thats been going around. i just never saw it that way in any of the early dick!robi.n runs ive read and i know nostalgia goggles are a thing but dick and bruce generally regard their early years very positively. and yes dick did want to kill tony zucc.o but i feel like we're missing the plot here seeing as how a big part of that story was that he didn't!!! that he had the chance, he had the desire, and he didn't. and just in general i'm just a very big fan of the dick and bruce were exactly what the other needed to see the good in the world at that time idea, and the whole 'light to the dark knight' schtick.

[recycledraccoon]

What happens next? What happens when The Bad Kids do what they do best and save the world? What happens when the RAGE is suddenly gone?

Would they ashamed of themselves? Of what they did? Of who they became?

.

.

You were a naive teenage freshman, and two teachers you trusted were manipulating you into a monster. You didn't notice, distracted by typical teenage problems and petty insecurities. You didn't fight it. You walked willingly down the easy path and became pawns in their grand plan.

You know how it started. This is how it ends.

(YOU HATE THEM THEY ARE IN YOUR WAY AND YOU ARE GOING TO KILL THEM AND PROVE YOURSELF BETTER FINALLY! THERE IS NO MORE WAITING YOU ARE CROSSING BLADES AND FLINGING SPELLS WITH UNRELENTING WRATH AND DEADLY INTENTIONS-)

They fight you. Their teamwork is flawless in a way your party's has never been. Their awareness of the battlefield and their control over it makes it all the more apparent that this battle is a raging wild thunderstorm trying to break apart a mountain standing tall and insurmountable. The mountain does not so much as bend, for all that you blast holes and carve deep into the rock. The mountain does not bend, nor bow, much less-

The storm will always break first.

It ends like this-

(WHY ISNT THIS WORKING WHY ARE THEY STILL FIGHTING THEY WONT DIE THEYWONTDIETHEYWONT-PAIN. IT HURTS! IT HURTS! NO!! NO NO NONONOPAINNOPAINNOPAINNOPAI-)

You die.

.

.

.

.

Dying like this is vengeance. It is retribution.

.

.

.

But it is not JUSTICE.

.

.

.

Let's try again.

You wake up.

(Doubt shepherds you back through the dark.

Justice and Conviction, like sunlight warm and golden, breaks over the horizon.

The rage implanted inside you dissolves into golden light to join the dawn.)

You are a Dragonborn, no longer little or weak by any means, but it still feels like nothing ever changed at all from that very first day. You feel very small, rubbing at a chest that is incredibly tender and sore.

Before your blurry eyes, are The Bad Kids. Battered, bruised, bloody. Standing tall, heroic, and undefeated.

The Cleric of Doubt and Paladin of Justice both have brought you back to breathing, and you watch in awe and horror as all of your friends are awake too.

Idly, you realise they also rub at their chests near immediately. You look down and find no red star-like gem of rage embedded there. Only ugly, fully healed scars like a jagged star.

(What have you done?)

Later, there will be questions and officials and repercussions. Justice for you will look like second chances, and the hard unending road of righting the wrongs you have done.

Death is the easy way out.

Redemption is hard.

For right now, the heroes before you are wearily celebrating, cracking jokes and rubbing blood off their faces. All the while your party is still gathering your bearings, and you have no idea where your glasses are.

Shame rolls in your gut and even as you and your friends sit together you can barely look at each other.

Finally, words are exchanged, a clearing of the board. It doesn't fix anything of what you've done, but you know without doubt if you ever try anything again they will not bring you back a second time. You settle in to wait for whatever authorities will be coming.

(Later, while you are in a cell waiting to find out what happens next, your party will be told that the friend you killed was brought back, the curse preventing her revival broken. You are not the only one in those cells to weep, loud and ugly and so so relieved.)

A pair of cracked glasses appear in front of you, held by a hand with bloody knuckles. You put them on, blink as you adjust to the cracked glass but vision once more clear. You see the bloody knuckles again, and with a jolt realize those are the hands that killed you. You died under the crunch of a furious fist you never anticipated.

You look up.

When you saw her for the first time, she was a cute, if sometimes awkward, elven girl in your Thursday classes. You kept seeing her, even as she became renowned and remarkable, even as you had been slowly getting angrier.

The first time she ever smiled at you, you had hated her already. She had been very pretty, and if you had been anything less than actively planning to kill her, you think her expert spell craft but awkward stumbling of words and red cheeks would have left you utterly enchanted in truth.

Later, before you fight and die, the look she gives you is cold and piercing, determined. The only red on her cheeks is blood that had splattered there.

You look up.

The Elven Oracle, the most powerful divination wizard you have ever met or will ever meet again, stands towering above you for all that you know logically she is at least a foot shorter than you.

Her blonde hair is a mess, clothes dirty and ripped and stained dark in some places. Her eyes flicker with the magic of the powerful Oracle she is, as she stares down at you.

(You wonder what she sees about you in those flickers.)

She frowns, lips pursed for a moment, but her hands clench and you think for moment she might punch you to death again. Or yell at you maybe, but is biting her tongue.

Instead, with one last look of piercingly cold eyes that could kill, she turns to join her friends, leaving you behind without hesitation or second thought, or even a last word.

(Good for her.)

You are a horrible coward. Selfish and capable of cruelty that makes your shame increase tenfold. She had smiled at you and chilled a drink in your hand. She defended you and called you cool to her friends that day in the cafeteria. You took advantage of that, of those tender early feelings, and crushed them under an angry, undeservingly bitter, heel.

You are a horrible selfish coward, and you don't think you've ever seen anyone more beautiful in your life than her, even as she walks away from you.

You can't ever imagine she will ever smile at you again now. What future will there ever be, where she sees you and her eyes aren't cold and scornful? Nothing more than a bitter memory to be forgotten and set aside for better things. How could she ever see anything you say or do as genuine ever again? You certainly wouldn't.

(The way your heart pounds in your chest, fast and heavy, feels like yet another sin on your sagging scaled shoulders. There is an intense moment of painful, shameful yearning that you swallow down, down, down and away. Watching her back as she walks away will be more than you ever deserve to have gotten in the first place. More than you think you will ever deserve again in whatever life you scrap together after this.)

Life, as ever, continues after that day like it always has and always will.

You go to prison for a time, as what you and your friends did as minors- manipulated or not- are legally responsible for in the aftermath is decided. You go to therapy, serve a very forgiving sentence, and when you go on parole your time is eaten up by both mandatory and voluntary community service.

You try to get better. To be better. You think you and your party are true friends now, bound together by bitter shame at what you've all done and gone through together.

(The first person who visits your party while in prison who isn't a member of any of your families, is Lucy Frostblade. Even as a Cleric of a Sorrowful God, you don't think you've ever seen her more sad than sitting across from all of you, warded glass between. There are no apologies that will ever be enough.

But Lucy has always, always been braver and stronger than any of you. The power of her conviction is something wondrous.

She always tried to be that fire to keep the cold and dark at bay, even as it risked burning her. By all the gods, you had burned her to ash, and yet here she is again. Alive and renewed. A campfire relit and flickering in the distance, promising safety and warmth.

Despite everything, Lucy sits across from all of you and promises to see you through this.)

Days go by. Never again are the seven of you known as The Rat Grinders, except in past tense when speaking the history of your sins. You don't go back to being High Five Heros, but you grow into something new together.

You still fight rage some days. It makes you feel sick and scared. You always are afraid of what is genuine emotion and what is lingering from the star-scar on your chest.

You still think about her sometimes.

(Selfishly you hope you are a distant memory to her, and she never thinks of you and your cruelty to her again. Even more selfishly, even more shamefully, there is a tiny part in your heart where you wish she doesn't forget you like you know you won't forget her. It's better to smother that part of your heart into deeper and deeper depths, hoping beyond hope that painful yearning doesn't overcome you and cause it to rise up again. She deserves a life without having to deal with people like you.)

The thing about The Bad Kids, is how ironic their name is given how genuinely and unabashedly good they are.

Lucy remains their friend, even as she helps the rest of them on their steady journey back from evil.

This means it's inevitable that the two once rival parties meet again. It's awkward at first, but The Bad Kids give them shit and rag on them as easily as they extend kindness. You will meet more people and realize that you are not the first villains in their lives they've forgiven.

You give the beautiful Elven Oracle as a sincere apology for the past as you can. She quirks an eyebrow at you, and as lovely a sight as it is, the shame is greater. You don't know if she believes you in the slightest. You don't want to find out.

You do your best to not bother her at all, on the occasions the two parties meet.

(Try as you might, you are powerless to stop your eyes from locking onto her the second she enters any room you are in. You always look away as quickly and casually as you can, frazzled heart pounding like a traitor. It's harder to not watch whenever she walks away, the memory of the day she walked away from you locked in your mind like crystal glass.)

You keep moving forward. Life goes on. You keep a pair of cracked spectacles in a box in your closet. On the bad days, when you hate yourself the most, you look and remember that you have been given kindness and a second chance by people who hated you. If they gave you a second chance, you feel it would be in poor taste to not extend yourself that same courtesy.

You and your friends become legally speaking, free souls. You get qualifications and find work that feels right for you. There are some things you and your friends never joke about again, but you find new things to fill in those gaps.

You move on. You're not sure if it's working sometimes, but you keep moving anyway. Relationships become easier, you try new things and meet more people. You have a whole life left to live. One day you find yourself capable and confident, which is a bit of a surprise. You try every day to be as sincere and honest as you can.

(Sometimes, you feel a powerful, almost familiar, gaze on you. You were a coward once. You never took on a quest you thought you couldn't beat, the fear of failure hanging above too great. It's been a long time, and you are a very different person now. You are still too much of a coward to ever turn around to find that gaze.)

One day, you agree to go do a job as a favor to a friend. Your field is specialized, and you enjoy working in a field that makes your brain work, writing out pages and pages of complicated maths and spell work. Either way, you have the qualifications and are confident you can get it done and settled far faster and better than anyone else your friend could have asked.

You go to the job, and are caught off guard and flustered when there happens to be a beautiful Elven woman also working on the project. She looks up at you with a powerful gaze, a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that feels a little like a challenge, a dare.

(You want to run away, hide, calm the heart that you find to be a selfish, shameful traitor even after all this time. It pounds in your chest hard enough your afraid it might just kill you.)

You walk in to get started, hands already reaching for a folder of information being handed to you from a college as you gets the run down, ready to work.

Minor thoughts on Oisin and how he seems primed to fuck over Adaine specifically. The flustered ping-pong balls that were a plan all along. The quoting her own words on the previous Elven Oracle back at her in regards to the storm.

I mean...imagine you're a skinny little dragonborn wizard, in a class with a cute elven girl. You don't talk to her, but one of your adventuring party members is pissing thinking that party is getting preferential treatment, so you KNOW about her. You watch from the corner of your eye or from a spot on the back of the class whenever she's actually there. Partway through the year she goes to jail, and when she comes back she and her adventuring party save the world from a dragon. (A dragon of whom your Grandmother had been fond. ((Also, coincidentally, the Vice Principal.))) One of them created a god.

(Your entire party is being groomed into rage by two of your teachers.)

You're in her class again. She is the Elven Oracle, already an accomplished adventurer. She and her friends are popular. She's very pretty. She does not know your name. She does not know who you are, just a skinny dragonborn a few seats back.

You go on your Sophomores Year Spring Break Adventure and don't bother to think about her party at all.

(You and your party are going to kill a god. Your teacher is going to ascend to godhood in their place and you and your party will have Made That Happen. You are angry and determined with each final blow you deal.)

You return from Spring Break angry and with a sore chest.

You find out the elven girl's party has resurrected a dead god and the live streamed the entire fight. They must think they're so much better than you and your party. You'll show them.

(Your friend refuses to change her faith. She cancels the paperwork. The rest of you kill her, confident she will make the right choice and join you again as a proper Champion for your new god. You help kill her. She does not get back up. You hide the body and none of you can say anything. You're so so angry.)

The world descended into darkness and you can do nothing. The sun finally breaks across the sky again right before Junior year. You and your party have made plans and are on the cusp of greatness. You've gained muscles to spare and ink on your scales in carefully selected runes, no longer just a skinny little dragonborn.

(You have a new cleric. He's not your friend. He's a haystack hick from that cult-church from Freshman year, and he's here because the god you're going to kill needs a Champion and he fits the bill, nothing more.)

The first day of school the plan starts to be put in motion. Immediately that party of kids is interfering, in your way. It rackles. You push on anyway, seething inside even as you act the part of being reasonable.

You go to a party at the houses of one of her friends. You've been practicing making spell runes on the inside of ping-pong balls. You're ready.

The pretty Elven girl in your class finally looks at you. She approaches you, gives you a drink, and chills it in your hand. She has to ask your name. You have shared certain wizarding classes with her since Freshman year, tho she was barely there. You have to tell her that.

You chat. She clearly gets flustered, calls you great, and flees back into the house. Your friend teases you for others to overhear. It's a convenient excuse to use your geometry and apply physics to miss every single shot and lay your trap. The drink isn't so perfectly chilled in your hand anymore.

(You talk to her. Play nice. She isn't smooth, but she smiled at you and maybe a part of you is vindictive in seeing her flustered. It's a shame she turned down the diamonds, as dragon madness would have been so poetic. You steal her summons to steal something from the house. She didn't know your name. Didn't remember you. You feel justified. Your anger burns cold like frostbite, like static in the air. You purposely don't wonder if that first miss was intentional or genuine.)

You see each other in class sometimes.

You plot and kill monsters the woods. You will win the battle. You will win the war.

Your parties have a standoff in the cafeteria. You play your part to diffuse the situation, your teacher has been harping on your friends to stop antagonizing the other party. You feel her mind touch yours gentle probing of intentions, her friends all around her as you lock eyes.

(The devil's honey your group gets from that bee girl all goes to your teacher. He is preparing himself to ascend to godhood, and he needs it for his prayers.)

She is searching for your intentions and feelings. You tell her only 'Sorry'. She believes you. You are not entirely sure why. She and her party will hopefully die during their Last Stand exam, and have no way to revive themselves in time, be trapped there until after elections.

Maybe she just wasn't perceptive enough to see the deception.

(You hate her and all her friends. You have had no devil's honey. She believes you. Briefly, you wonder if it was a lie at all.)

They catch you. They know. Your team goes to ground and waits out the remaining days 'til elections and the culmination of everything you've been working for.

It rains at the party, and you have no more masks. You are angry. She must never have been that good of an Oracle at all, and you take joy in mocking her with her own words from long ago.

She's nothing more than an elven girl in your class who was full of herself to remember your name.

(There is nothing left now to stop you from being as openly angry as you like.)

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

there’s a trend I’ve been seeing in my IG feed that perplexes me, so I want to consult my fellow complementarian Tumblr lads and ladies

Is a man’s family intended to support his calling, or is his calling intended to support his family?

[thatfeyboy]

I need to know why it makes people so unreasonably upset to suggest that some dysphoric trans people probably should be considered intersex. Do you just. Hate trans people? Or is it because anything that makes trans physical isn't allowed?

It has been stated many many times that not all trans people have dysphoria, and not all trans people that do experience the same dysphoria. It has been harped on that gender is social and about presentation and isn't binary. Fine. But somehow when I or people like me talk about having physical and immutable dysphoria that doesn't stem from social means it's not ok. When I bring up that yes, some parts of the brain control your hormones and gonads, and yes, some parts recognize what you are and should look like, im treated like a fucking gender critical.

Why is it wrong to say that parts of the brain do in fact qualify as sex related because that's what they are for? If they dont physically square with the binary(naturally, not through intervention) then that person is not binary/intersex in their physical disposition by definition. It's not exactly a hard concept to grasp.

And because I have to, no, most aspects of the brain are not related to our bimodal sex system. There can in fact be gender/sex nuance in certain parts of the brain without claiming male and female type brains exist as a whole. Fear of some shitty crack pot idea should not prevent people from understanding scientific inquiry and research.

Being intersex does not make the trans experience more or less valid/real. But I'm tired of pretending I'm a man for reasons that absolutely don't apply to me. Nothing about my being trans has anything to do with how I want to socially be, aside as an extension of others viewing my body as I wish it to be. If there is really room in the community for all of us, then my saying that some of our experience is different shouldn't be a problem.

EDIT: Thank you for some of your responses. I would like to amend my statement slightly. When I mentioned intersex I was more trying to imply, as I lacked a better word, that it is clear some if not most trans people that experience dysphoria have a physical developmental reason for that, likely epigenetic, genetic, and pre natal conditions. This type of sense is in most people, including cis people, hence why you cannot train someone to be a gender they aren't(no desistance of gender identity in both cis and trans people regardless of treatment). If intersex is to be interpreted as things exclusively affecting external or internal primary sex traits(as to be read, physically involved in the act of procreation) that are only ever natal, then I am ok in accepting intersex is not the best fit(except for that PCOS study but not super relevant rn).

That being said, I do still believe it is a part of sex and sex/gender development and that it is a physical condition(most anatomy based dysphoria). I don't see why it being a part of sex and sex development is a problem, when it has no other answer that satisfies our actual understanding of the condition and those peoples experience. Anything based on socialization has been disproven time and time again, so when are we going to stop acting like this

[corseque]

Re: your Twitter poll: I think I’m the only one who thinks that Trespasser line reads oddly if they didn’t have sex.

If they didn’t, that means either 1 of 3 things: Solas is denying something Lavellan herself is asserting, Solas didn’t understand the metaphor or Solas bizarrely brought it up as a non-sequitur.

Meanwhile, if they did have sex, he’s presuming she’s using a play on words to insinuate that he took her for a ride and he’s saying no, I wouldn’t have slept with you if I was pretending the whole time.

I’ve had a few people say this to me, but it makes perfect sense to me so maybe I can try to explain. I’m writing the rest of this post talking only about the interpretation where Solas and Lavellan did not have sex, but as we know, it’s equally valid and canon to think they did have sex. Ok. So.

Solas: “What is the old Dalish curse? “May the Dread Wolf take you?”

Lavellan: “And so he did.” (The Dread Wolf did trick me like the old curse said.)

— Solas: “I did not. I would not lay with you under false pretenses.” (I did not. I would never cross the line and have sex with you under false pretenses.)* —

“But you lied to me. I loved you. Did you really think I wouldn’t have understood?” (It doesn’t matter that you didn’t cross that line. You still lied to me and didn’t trust me when I loved you.)

*yes, this is a disjointed thing to respond with. He’s thinking of the innuendo when she isn’t.

So you said it was one of three things - I think it’s the third thing, Solas bringing it up in a (at first glance) bizarre way.

I think that Reddit post I linked on Twitter made a good point in that Solas seems very thrown in this conversation when Lavellan doesn’t dump him immediately. He’s expecting to be dumped, he isn’t expecting to defend himself. And his defenses seem very wrong-footed, unpolished, honest, and, now that I’m thinking about it, interesting. (I’ll tie it together after looking at the angry branch.)

In the other, equivalent branch, it goes

Lavellan: “Ma harel lasa!” (“You lied to me!”)

— Solas: “Only by omission.” (Lol) —

Lavellan: “Ma lasa banal’ghilana!” (You led me astray!”)

Solas: “What would you have had me say, that I was the great adversary in your people’s mythology?”

Lavellan: “I would have had you trust me!”

The equivalent line there is “Only by omission” which is an equally silly lame duck defense to say. It’s as silly to say “I only half-lied to you!” as it is to say “Well, at least I didn’t have sex with you!”

But I think what these responses both have in common* is that they both would be things he had thought about for years of regret and rumination, so that’s why they were honestly on his mind when he suddenly had to answer for himself. “At least I never lied to her, I only lied by omission.” “At least I didn’t cross that line with her and have sex with her.” “What was I supposed to tell her? ‘By the way, I’m the devil who has haunted your people for ages beyond counting?’”

(it’s funny that all 3 of these things he’s been telling himself just blow away in the wind in an actual conversation with her, haha)

Anyway, “I didn’t cross the line of sex with you” is not a non-sequitor if he had been ruminating about it for years and it was important to him. If it wasn’t important to him*, they would have had sex.

*in this interpretation, of course.

[eloves-writes]

💜 with carlos sainz!! could you make it spicy? it's ok if you don't want to as well it's your choice :)

fun fact! i can see you was one of my surprise songs at the eras tour and it is very near and dear to my heart😌😌 is this secret relationship trope overdone? yes. will that stop me? no!

song lyric prompt: “i can see you waiting down the hall from me, i can see you up against a wall with me” i can see you ~ taylor swift💜

warnings: kissing, reader n carlos being cute, slightly suggestive, oblivious charles leclerc

————————————————————

the whole press conference, you kept finding your eyes wandering over to carlos opposite you on the large sofa. he looked so beautiful today in his ferrari shirt with his summer break tan and messy yet perfect hair; this was the first time you’d seen him since the last race in spa, not managing to align your vacation plans but mostly not wanting to rouse suspicion if you were caught a beach together somewhere. the secrecy was fun and adrenaline pumping, it made you feel like you were in high school again sneaking around behind your parent’s backs- of course, the stakes were much higher due to your on track ‘rivalry’ with the spaniard. at least, the battling for positions and pushing each other off track was interpreted by the media as such; in reality, it was playful, teasing foreplay that you both enjoyed so much that the thought of getting caught and letting everybody else in on your little game disappointed you both immensely.

when the floor was opened up for questions from the journalists, hands shot up as usual and a question headed straight for you.

“this is for y/n and carlos,” the woman started, respectful in her tone which you appreciated after the shit men had asked you in the years since you started racing. “we’ve all liked watching your on-track battles so far this year, but we wonder if you two are coming in just as hot to the second half of this season, or has the rivalry cooled off over the summer break?”

she posed a valid question, but truthfully it was one you wondered the answer to yourself. had the heat between you cooled in each other’s absence? and if it had, was there an on-track rivalry without the off-track affair?

after a beat of silence allowing you both to think, carlos spoke.

“i don’t know about y/l/n, here,” he answered, connecting his big brown eyes with yours and making your stomach flip. “but i’m coming in just as hot.”

you knew what he was really saying. you paused for a second before answering yourself:

“me too,” you responded playfully. “carlos is a great driver, but i’m better.”

-

as you walked off the stage back to your team’s garage, a hand grabbed your waist and carlos leant down to level his lips with your ear.

“i’m good, but you’re better, huh?”

you turned to look at him, trouble in your eyes. “that’s what i said, yep.”

he grabbed your hand and swiftly dragged you into the ferrari garage without anyone seeing. pushing you up against the wall of the corridor, he kissed you feverishly and you kissed him back, welcoming the taste of his perfect lips on yours again and the gentle pull of his hands tangled in your hair.

“i missed you, cariño,” he breathed, pulling away from the kiss to take in every inch of your face as you did the same to him. you would never tire of seeing him so close up, admiring each feature like it was carved from marble. but it wasn’t; he was so, so real.

“mhm, you’re coming in just as hot,” you teased, quoting his answer to the reporter earlier.

carlos chuckled and nodded his head. “oh yeah. i’m definitely hot for you.”

his sarcastic tone made you laugh, leaning up to kiss him again. the kiss turned from sweet to rough in an instant, and your arms which had been previously draped around his neck dropped to hem of his shirt so your hands could explore his toned stomach under the red fabric as you continued to kiss him. his own hands fell to your ass, grabbing it in a way that pushed your hips forward into his crotch, earning a groan from the taller man.

footsteps down the hall took you out of your intimate moment, immediately removing your hands from each other and putting some needed distance between your bodies. you snorted when you noticed the semi forming in carlos’ jeans, and he lightly hit you on the arm for laughing.

“not my fault,” he said quietly through gritted teeth.

“you dragged me in here,” you whispered. “so kinda is.”

he hit you on the arm again as the source of the footsteps approached and carlos’ teammate came into view. he looked from you to carlos, suspicious.

“think you’re in the wrong garage, y/l/n,” charles joked, going in to hug you. “you alright? carlos hasn’t been trying anything with you, has he? can’t keep his hands to himself,” he continued, clapping his teammate on the back. carlos silently begged you not to start laughing.

“no,” you replied, using all your self control to sound calm and unbothered. “i thought i’d just come and inform him that i’m going to absolutely smash him this weekend.”

you smiled at carlos, milking the double entendre for all it was worth before leaving them both and quickly heading back to your own garage.

-

“you totally like her, mate,” charles laughed at his teammate once you were out of earshot. and carlos could deny it all he wanted, but he totally did.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

[muzsmocsing]

MHA headcanons bcuz the show brings me a lot of joy

If you don't agree with them or they clash with canon that's ok just scroll on, peace and love on the planet earth and whatnot.

⭐Iida is straight but is openly into BL. He's up to date on new releases, mostly pg shoujo stuff. Except for one fantasy comic that is hella explicit at some points but he is VERY passionate about the lore and characters.

⭐Bakugo has Inosuke levels of androgyny going on. He would give Shouto a run for his money in the "class 1-A's resident prettyboy" vote that was held if he 1. wasn't too scary for people to vote for him. and 2. if he stopped scowling for like two seconds.

⭐Aoyama is some flavor of nonbinary but doesn't use any labels because he HATES them. He is an ✨experience✨, a piece of art up for interpretation.

⭐Pro hero Red Riot has a line of menstrual hygiene products with cool and manly packaging because he's very popular with transmasc people and wanted to give back something helpful and validating to them.

⭐Kirishima once called Bakugo his "brofriend" and he just about had an aneurysm.

⭐ Before they got together, Kirishima wrote half the valentine's cards Bakugou recieved anonymously because he "just had so many feelings it couldn't fit just on one card!!"

⭐Bakugou is a secret romantic. He hates talking about it because it's "bad for his image" but he has a big collection of shoujo manga and internally melts whenever Kiri does something soft for him like buying flowers or holding his hand in public.

⭐Aizawa regularly gets intrusive thoughts of becoming a househusband whenever he has a particulaly annoying time. Like after his 7th parent teacher conference of the day or after a full week of falling asleep in uncomfortable beds in seedy hostels he stares at the ceiling like "Hizashi is a celebrity. He has three jobs. What am I doing here? I love him. I can't cook but I could learn 😫"

⭐Kaminari hits on Bakugo's mom every chance he gets. Bakugo's tries to blow him up, Mitsuki thinks it's fucking hilarious.

⭐Allmight has a crush on Midoriya Inko but is scared to do anything about it because A. it might upset Izuku and B. he thinks he's too old and ugly for her.

⭐You'd think Midnight would be a bad teacher based on her general sexy nature but actually she's well loved because she's the only teacher who the kids trust with advice on relationships and intimacy, especially after the dorm system set in. She has time set aside each week where she's available for anyone to pop into her office and chat about whatever they're worried about. Aizawa is endlessly thankful for this because one time Todoroki asked him what a backshot is because he heard Sero make a joke about it and he's still healing from that conversation.

⭐Since both of their quirks are food based Sato and Momo often bake together. Sato's the master decorator, Momo buys good quality ingredients and is a beast at chiffon cakes.

⭐Denki can't swim. After The Incident in primary school where he almost electrocuted a whole swimming pool of people he's been scared to try.

⭐Kirishima has two moms. His birth mom had him at like 18 and his biological father wasn't ready for that yet. Her best friend immediately stepped up to help with the baby, and that's Kiri's mama now.

Thank you for reading!! I am incredibly late to this fandom but hey I'm having fun now so. Sick.

If you liked this, you can find part 2 here :)

[gem-de-lune]

Revisiting Timeline for News about Seunghan

Since a lot of people are anxious, I decided to talk today about some confirmations I have been experiencing.

I recently had someone message me another Tarot reader's verdict on the timeline for Seunghan's return or rather when we will receive news on this.

I will preface this by saying I actively try not to interpret other reader's pulls because a lot of time, they are not meant for me to read. However, in this case, part of their reading was a definite sign for another reason, so I will be referencing a tiny part of it.

In this other reading the person pulled the Moon card for a timeline and said that it equated to 9 months. When it comes to timelines and tarot, everyone has their own way of doing it- but personally there imo i do not distinguish whether a timeline is 9 months, years, weeks, or days, just by 1 card alone.

The reason why I mention this is because i was basically not paying attention to the months aspect, just the number 9. (Sign 1)

Next, I decided I might as well do a quick little pull for timeline, in which I pulled the Hermit card

The Hermit is the 9th card of the Major Arcana. (Sign 2)

Then, as I placed down the card, my alarm went off for 9am....(Sign 3)

At this point I was like ok I get it...

So me being me I was like okay what is 9 days from now and if that means anything bc your girl could have a whole baby in 9 months.

9 days from now in Korea (where it is Oct 26th today) would be Nov 4th. (Sign 4).

I had someone in my asks ask me if the numbers I pulled for timeline a while ago: 8, 6, 4*, 2 were still valid, because another reader said news will come by Nov 4th. (Sign 5)

So finally I pulled some cards asking if we would get news by Nov 4th. And I will also preface, when pulling cards for yes/no you need to take into consideration what the card actually means. So even though this card is positive, if you are pulling like the knight of pentacles which is slow moving or stagnant, then the answer is more likely no or maybe a little later than expected. If you pull a knight of swords who is super fast, then you'll get a faster timeline than expected.

In this case I pulled

Ace of Wands + 9 of Pentacles + 10 of Swords

Someone recently asked about my swords being oddly positive, and I do think they are referring to this 10 of swords card. The 10 of swords actually traditionally looks different so here is a comparison of the original vs my deck:

And it usually signifies a painful ending. However, what a lot of people miss is the golden sky in the traditional card, which signifies the light at the end of the tunnel.

My deck which is the Book of Shadows Vol 2, narrows in on this meaning. The 10 of swords is not simply about a painful end. It's symbolizing going through a painful situation and being reborn from the ashes of that pain. It is about overcoming in a situation that seemed like the end. This is true with both cards, but the true meaning for your specific reading is dependent on the surrounding cards. Which is why it is usually not good to pull this type of card alone for an outcome, because people tend to just see the swords and defeat but in reality- even if someone is going through a defeat that is NEVER the end of the story unless they literally die- which is unlikely 😂 (every set back is a set up for a comeback)

Now, going back to these pulls- which btw JUMPED out. They are saying yes. We should be receiving an update by the 4th. The 10 of swords signifies being reborn from a painful situation as stated. The ace of wands is a powerful yes card signifying new ventures, passion and action. The 9 of pentacles aside from being yet another 9 indicator, shows that this will be positive news coming after a long time of hard work.

I think we were definitely due for another one of these non structured reads. I am sorry if anyone felt personally victimized by me saying I cannot pull every day for if he will return and when. I still cannot do that, but I understand the stress and sorrow, and I never mean to be mean at all- just want you guys to know that. I am a Gemini Moon so dealing with all the emotions of so many people is draining to me because I see them as tasks I must analyze instead of just what they are: emotions. Just know I am with you and I hear you regardless.

I hope this reading brought a lot of comfort to yall.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Short question: Do you have any tips for turning "If you knew anything about the Holocaust, you'd know why we need Israel" from a conversation ender into a conversation starter? Longer context: I find it important, as a Jewish anarchist and anti-Zionist, to try my best to have hard conversations about safety and perceptions thereof with irl Jewish family, friends, and acquaintances. My politics make me an outlier in these spaces, as does my status as a convert, which I choose to be quite open about. I cannot begin to estimate how many people self-righteously cut short these conversations with "If you knew ANYTHING about [the Holocaust/antisemitism/generational trauma] you'd UNDERSTAND why we REALLY NEED [medinat yisrael/any jewish ethnostate/colonial zionism]". I'm under no illusion that I'm a scholar on the history of antisemitism or Jewish living patterns or the Levant or anything. I've taken one college-level course on Nazi Germany policy and beaucratic shit, but it intentionally dealt minimally with the pointy end of the death machine. I've taken two year-long Judaism 101 style classes, which of course dealt with the history of the Jewish people. I read relevant nonfiction, both books and essays. I also understand that being a convert gives me a very different personal history with the intergenerational trauma, and I want to be super respect of that. So overall I consider myself reasonably well informed, but I obviously can't respond to them with the "I know more than you" card. (Not that that would be a good way to handle it, but still.) I want to talk to people, who use this specific argumentative tactic, about what it means that our very legitimate traumas as a people led us to the point of producing our own little ethnostate (with a number of very paternalistic inputs from European nations of course). About how the shoah shaped modern zionism. About the biblical Joshua vs the archaeological evidence of that time period and what it means for our national/societal identities. About the haftarah in which israel demands a king and whether being just like the other nations has ever been lastingly good for literally anyone. But unanimously, people look at me like I'm the fool for going "yeah actually let's talk about history and fear and trauma and cultural legacies and (re)interpretation" instead of like. Applauding their sick burn about how clearly naïve I am. Do you, a Real Actual Holocaust Scholar, have a way to turn that "obviously you know nothing" accusation into a productive conversation? If so can you please share because I am losing my mind over here.

NOTE TO READERS: I'm going to speak frankly about stuff that goes down in the American Jewish community, as a lifelong and active MEMBER of that community. This is not fodder for any of your anti-Semitic bullshit and I'm deeply uninterested in Gentile Thoughts on what I'm about to write. You do not have my consent to weaponize anything you read here against Jews you encounter here, or elsewhere, regardless of their politics.

Oof ok. I have some answers, but you may not like them. First, politics within the Jewish community. I love that you're a convert and I respect your dedication and hard work; I'm sure you know much more about the Jewish faith than I do. However, as you know, Judaism is both a religion and an ethnic group/identity. And there are a lot of religious and secular Jews who chafe at the feeling of being told how they should and should not feel about Israel by a convert who does not share our heritage and experience of intergenerational trauma. Especially if they're over 60.

I also want to tell you that when members of our community, particularly individuals over 60 years of age, have their minds made up about Israel, Zionism, etc, they're not interested in valid historical takes from experts. Their minds are made up and they reject any information counter to their stance, and attack the person providing them with the info. I've been personally attacked here and elsewhere by our people for bringing up historical and archaeological issues which run counter to their arguments. I've had my intellect and education and abilities mocked, while I'm out here voluntarily traumatizing myself through my dedication to the study of Holocaust history.

Another issue, is that Jewish history is deeply interwoven in our observance, faith, and heritage. This gives individuals involved at various levels with the Jewish community the idea that they Know Jewish History. They don't. They know a version of the Jewish past specifically constructed by and within our communal spaces; see Zakhor by Hayim Yerushalmi. And a lot of them, especially if they're a man over 50 and you're a woman who reads as young, get real nasty if you assert vaster and more accurate knowledge. It's kind of similar to how people in our communities think that they Know Holocaust History because they read Night and Grandma was a survivor. But those things don't mean that they know Holocaust history--it means they've engaged with two first-hand accounts.

I'm going to advise you to stop trying with these people. I know that's not the answer you want, and I'm really sorry about that. But, the types of people you're engaging with are so deeply traumatized and set in their own defensive views, that they would never listen to me, a Jewish granddaughter of Holocaust refugees and academically trained Holocaust historian. And if they won't listen to me, they sure as hell won't listen to someone they view as an outsider to the Jewish historical experience.

You'd be better off engaging members of your community who are still learning and figuring everything out, discussing your views as equals who are learning from one another, and putting your energies towards Jewish organizations who do not need convincing of your perspective.

ETA: this is something that will only likely change over the course of generations. the traumas of the holocaust are still fresh and living in the minds of survivors, their Baby Boomer children, and their millennial grandchildren; and I'm saying that as one of those millennial grandchildren. The trauma-induced view that Israel is our shield against the Holocaust ever happening again will not change because of anything you or I might say. It will only begin to fade into new paradigms of thought when we are many more years removed from living memory of those events.

[angelmachines]

teru & socialization

i've posted about this before but something ive been thinking about a LOT is mp100's themes of loneliness (and eventual connections). i think this is an aspect of teru's character (in particular) that gets left out because it's not as explicit but i've been wanting to do a deep dive on it for a while and i finally sat down to do it. just a warning, this post is gonna be LONG.

these two panels are from chapter 16 of the manga (which i'm using for my evidence because i. dont want to scrub through the anime LOL). initial sentiment: teru uses his powers to cheat having friends/a good social life and wouldn't have that if he tried earnestly. this is a fair interpretation of the scene. with what we know, at this point of time (as in within the teru-mob fight) teru would not be able to connect with other people earnestly, due to his mindset. which i think is a fair interpretation, HOWEVER:

(from chapter 17 ^^) the first panel shows teru's expression to be strained and the second is visibly unhappy. this puts the first set of panels into a different context, that maybe underneath all of this, teru doesn't WANT any of this life that he's built. keep in mind that i'm analyzing this with teru's possible autistic tendencies in mind & you dont have to believe he's autistic, im not your dad, but i do find this a pretty meaningful indication of masking if he were

(note: yes, the strain can definitely be read as comp-het, and i would agree but that's not relevant so go read this post on that instead)

even if the rest of these panels show teru content with his life, i think these expressions are pretty vital to how we read his life especially because we know so little of it. think about it, if you were a kid desperate for affection because you couldn't get it anywhere else, especially not in a way that would come off as "mature" or "unaffected", wouldn't you also look for validation in your popularity? even if it aligned you with people who you consider fundamentally different to you? my point here is that teru can't not stand out-- it's in his nature-- and we are shown how he tries to blend in & receive attention in the only way possible to him; which is to say that he molds himself into something that is palatable, likeable, and superior to other people. if he's nothing, like mob, he has spent his entire life covering up for it. if he fails socially, like mob, he has to be good at everything (even if he cheats to do so) so that everyone else can look past it.

(side note for my teru angst enjoyers: this is a panel of his mom. the mom who he hasn't seen in years. doesn't it make sense that, if he hasn't heard his mom say he's proud of him for literal years, that he would overachieve in response? not related to the autism thing i just have the teru bug. also don't be misogynistic in my notes both his parents suck we just get a singular mention of his mom)

so if teru couldn't meaningfully have friends before mob, that could very easily be because of his past mindset, right?

...except, we don't.. really... see him make other friends afterwards.

but, the awakening lab, right?

(ok i lied to you sorry there is one anime screenshot and thats because it stood out to me while i rewatched it earlier this month. sorry.) id like to bring attention to this screenshot during the cultural festival because the awakening lab can definitely be seen as a direct contradiction of this and i'd like to point out a couple things:

1) in this scene the shiratori brothers are in another room 2) them and the other three are friends with ritsu (or at least close enough acquaintances to want to see him).

considering this is one of the only times they appear together for Fun i am more inclined to believe this is an encounter where they went together because they all would've gone separately anyway. this isn't to discount the possible bond that these characters might have, but thats the thing. we... aren't really shown that they're friends and enjoy spending time together outside of this screenshot, where two out of six of the members are not even present. not to mention that teru is still placing himself in a role separate from his peers. despite stripping the superiority away, teru is still the awakening lab's mentor, not friend. teru still views himself as fundamentally different in a context where his psychic powers don't make him that way.

...except with mob. i bring this placement of power up because where he is the awakening lab's mentor, teru declares mob to be his rival, or, in other words, teru is just like him. he is accepting that mob and him are the same. (and if we view mob from an autistic lens... so on and so forth)

as if to hammer in that point even further-- in the summer vacation omake, teru explicitly states that "summer break is just a super long, super boring stretch of alone time." i'm not sure of the timeline here, but guessing from the hair, we're at least post season 1. which gives us explicit confirmation here that teru is spending the break alone despite his relationship to the awakening lab. his connection to mob is a lifeline here because mob is one of the only people who can intuitively understand teru's isolation without judgment

(also, on that point of teru's autistic tendencies: teru does and says a LOT of things that would raise other peoples eyebrows and doesn't seem to notice.

here we get teru actively admitting to his home life, right in front of reigen, WHO COULD CALL CHILD SERVICES ON HIM? this genuinely made me rethink this character entirely. teru's filter is... minimal. he isn't constantly volunteering information and generally minds his own business, but if you ask? Well.

teru is a social person, but to say he is proficient in understanding social situations seems... wrong. teru views his loneliness as boring because, despite being fairly open, does not actually allow himself to think about his own feelings and how they affect him. this loneliness is boring because he doesn't have enough of a reference to realize its not

if we are taking pre-mob teru to be a version of himself who is masking, or at the very least someone who is faking a lot of stuff in a less autistic sense, the fight with mob changes teru to the point where he no longer hides himself. in the same way that mob was able to shake teru's fragile superiority complex i think the change in appearance marks the end of the self teru had built up. from this point on we see him become a lot more... Him. his appearance and his fashion choices are, presumably, completely normal to him and we get no indication that he believes otherwise despite the reactions it gets-- which is... well, i wouldn't be writing this post if i thought it was one of his most neurotypical traits.

in fact, he seems... pretty oblivious to what other people think of him. which is an interesting distinction to make considering the intelligence we Know he possesses (which is not to say that you are unintelligent if you don't pick up on social cues, just that its common for media to depict it that way.) these traits are made pointedly, even if unintentionally, separate, ESPECIALLY when you note the amount of characters who Do ruminate on or stare at teru's appearance.

some examples. i don't even think this is all of it-- case in point.)

[queenvhagar]

Ok so clearly the writers read Fire and Blood and thought, "What if it was all propaganda 🤯 and Rhaenyra was actually a good queen 🤩 but the victors aka her killers Team Green 🤢and the maesters who wrote the history 🤓 were lying to make her look worse 😡 this interpretation makes me clever and good at showrunning 😤💯"

But what they should have been thinking was, "What's the most compelling story here for an ASOIAF show/Game of Thrones prequel? That 1) half the book is lies, Rhaenyra was faultless and did nothing wrong ever, her side was entirely good while the other was entirely bad, and how it played out is that the women were peaceful observers and the violent men were the reason the war happened and everyone died or 2) both sides were equally flawed and divided for what they saw as valid political and personal reasons and the resulting assortment of enmity, hatred, and realistic character flaws and motivations on both sides lead to war that destroyed the entire family and countless others?"

It really seems like they wanted to go with their own personal "conspiracy against Rhaenyra" interpretation that they thought they were so clever for thinking of at the cost of an actually compelling and realistic story that could have feasibly taken place in the world of Westeros.

[least-carpet]

'replacing jc in someone's affection' I am crying! wwx doesn't do it once but twice! It's fascinating! Also, this makes me understand why some people, reading the novel, come to the conclusion that wwx doesn't care anymore about jc. Yeah, it's a valid interpretation!

Listen, I just rotated, and rotated, and rotated this scenario (—because, like, both child and adult Wei Wuxian are sincerely in need of support and affection, but I think receiving it as a child while it was withheld from someone he loved, what might have seemed like taking it away from someone who also needed it, also contributed to his boundary problems and self-sacrificial tendencies and eventual resentment—like he needs it but it hurts someone he loves deeply when he gets it but he still needs it, how can he reconcile these conflicting truths?? OK I will stop now—) and, uh, have a tiny little sketch of that zhanchengxian fic concept below, with which I will exorcise my sad past chengxian/past zhancheng/current wangxian thoughts.

It was going to be a perfect triple triple drabble but I needed 80 more words in the centre section to describe Jiang Cheng's tears. You know how it is.

Pursued by Lesser Ghosts

At first he was busy and grateful for it.

Then, Jin Ling settled, elders cowed, sect in order, Jiang Cheng was forced to returned to Lotus Pier. Empty, now.

His sect ran as it always did. He slept poorly. He dreamed often. He walked up and down the pier at night, pursued by lesser ghosts, echoes of people who were alive, just gone. His own life closed around him as tight as any noose, one long merciless sequence of work, sleep, work.

He had a minor qi deviation.

“Go back to dual cultivation,” said the doctor.

“That’s no longer possible,” he said.

The doctor looked up. When Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything else, she said, “Well. Come here for acupuncture once a week. Consider visiting Jin Ling.”

Relax, she didn’t bother to say.

Jiang Ping, his one surviving cousin, took tea with him, and said: “I know things have been stressful. Perhaps you would consider marriage now?”

“I didn’t think marriage was relaxing,” said Jiang Cheng, drily.

“It can be. After everything, well… it’s nice to have someone there.” Jiang Ping looked up, thinking. “Having someone there and working a lot. I don’t think it’s possible for Sect Leader to work harder, so you’ll have to try the other thing.”

Jiang Cheng let out a snort despite himself. Jiang Ping grinned at him.

He could get married, he supposed. What was there to prevent him?

He didn’t call for a matchmaker. He worked harder, kept himself so busy he could hardly think, but at night, laying in his bed, he ached with loneliness before sleep. And in sleep, he saw them, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both, invariably walking away from him, hand in hand.

Sometimes he was silent; sometimes he called to them. It didn’t matter. They never turned around.

-

In Wei Wuxian’s dream, it was high summer, air as thick as syrup, and he was lying under the trees along the riverbank with his head in Jiang Cheng’s lap.

Above him, Jiang Cheng was eating tanghulu. Playfully, Wei Wuxian opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Jiang Cheng, rolling his eyes, took a piece of fruit and fed it to him, red and almost glowing. His index finger brushed against Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Sometimes, he dreamed and he didn’t know whether it was just a dream or a fragment of a memory. He thought this might have happened—he faintly remembered begging Jiang Cheng to let him rest his head in his lap, across his narrow, muscled thighs.

Suddenly it was night, and Jiang Cheng was gone.

“Jiang Cheng?” called Wei Wuxian, and found his voice was a child’s voice, high-pitched and nervous. “Jiang Cheng?”

He rushed through Lotus Pier, now dark and empty, towards Jiang Cheng’s room. Then, in the way of dreams, Jiang Cheng was in front of him, a child again, too, face swollen with tears as he wept alone on the pier.

Wei Wuxian froze, panicked.

Someone picked him up; Uncle Jiang had appeared. But instead of saying anything, he turned and walked away. “Uncle Jiang,” Wei Wuxian whispered, but Jiang Fengmian didn’t respond.

All Wei Wuxian could do was look over Uncle Jiang’s shoulder at Jiang Cheng, at his crumpled, sobbing face. You don’t understand, he thought, suddenly, I love you but I need this, I need it, I need it.

That face changed again, blurred into Jiang Cheng's adult face, still weeping as he knelt on the pier. And then the strong arms around him weren’t Uncle Jiang’s but Lan Zhan’s, holding him tight in a bridal carry, taking him away as he squirmed to look back, to not look away from Jiang Cheng’s face, they had been so happy only a moment ago—

Wei Wuxian woke late, his face wet. Went to look for a handkerchief. Opened a drawer he hadn’t looked in before to find: two purple hair ribbons. An open jar of salve, carved with the insignia of a well-known Yunmeng herbalist. And a lavender handkerchief, embroidered with a little frog. Wei Wuxian traced it gently with his thumb.

-

The day was a little crisp, but bright and beautiful. Lan Wangji had risen at the appointed time, eaten breakfast serenely with the sect, and taught some advanced guqin lessons. Lan Sizhui was coming along beautifully, playing more delicate and precise every day, a delight to teach.

Everything was just as it should be in the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji was still somehow uneasy.

He had gained everything he had dreamed of as a teenager, in one bewildering fell swoop. His life had been overturned, but for the better, the man he had wanted for so long delivered to him on a silver platter. He was unbelievably lucky.

Of course, he grieved what had happened to his brother. Lan Xichen deserved only good things. It was bitter to find out someone you had loved so deeply had deceived you—had failed you—had abandoned you.

But with the exception of that dark spot, the suffering and absence of his brother, his life was everything he had ever asked for, wasn’t it? A pristine life, on the surface.

If there was a dark shadow underneath, the ripple of something passing through a lake on a sunny day—something slipping out of an incautious hand, lost to the water—that too was life, wasn’t it?

He had never been so happy in his life. He had never before been so happy in his life, as he had once imagined it.

He averted his eyes from that shadow.

Until, one day, he returned home, and found Wei Ying, sitting at the room’s low table, holding a handkerchief in one hand. Remnants of a different life that had collected in his home. No—that he had kept. Gripped tightly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, brightly, face stretched in a brittle smile. “What’s this?”